Monday, December 15, 2008

Like most mothers, I have spent untold hours in waiting rooms with my small children, trying desperately to entertain them. A prepared mother enters with crayons, coloring pages, toys that are saved just for this occasion, paper and pencil for tictactoe, and still she finds herself at wit's end long before their names are called.This is when I would resort to story telling. I am actually grateful for these moments in our lives, because this is when I told the family stories passed down to me by my parents and grandparents. The one thing that I can promise you about these stories is this: If you are related to me, they may very well contain names you recognize and you may even find that you figure prominently in the story and you may find yourself wondering who the heck made up this crap because you certainly have no recollection of any of this ever happening to you, or if it does have some vague resemblance to something in your own life, you'll be positive it didn't happen anything like I'm telling it.You're absolutely right because chances are excellent that I am repeating my own sketchy memories of a tale told to me as a child by a parent who, while an excellent story teller herself, was recounting an event that had happened to someone else many years before she heard about it and she only got the point of view of one individual (most probably my father). If you, then, are a sibling of my father's who was actually there for the "Rabid Fox Adventure," you may find that it has nothing in common with your own memories of the same story.In this same vein, if you are my Uncle John or my mother's Cousin Joanie, you might find that you have been sadly misrepresented in the "Witch Story." Take it up with my mother. I'm telling it just the way she told it to me, or at least, just the way I remember her telling it 35 years ago.To be continued. This was just the opening teaser.

Saturday, December 06, 2008

What is this world coming to? I spent a week of my free time on this only to discover that it looks like it came from a store and that that is apparently a good thing. You'll remember that I'm trying desperately to hold on to my Pollyanna World View even as it slips away.

I know, I really do, that appearances are very important to teens and that if she is happy and her friends complimented the creation, I should be on top of the world. I do realize how much of an accomplishment that is.

It did inspire me to create more scarves of cashmere and silk for the inlaws and nieces. That's bravery beyond the recognition of anyone who doesn't know them, so you'll have to take my word for it.

I'm quite proud of myself. I figured out how to send pictures directly from my phone to Flickr and from Flickr to Ravelry and to here. I'll have to set this up for the library's blog. Fun Fun....

Now off to knit more. I'm quite pleased with my Elf gift. She'll never suspect a thing. Well, until she sees the postmark, but then she'll go "Oh no, not something home made!" Then she'll squeal. Especially if she opens it after she opens it. This is a hint.